


Hot Mess

by DreamsAreMyWords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexaweek2020, Clexaweek2020 Day 4, Day 4 Roommates, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Opposite of Fake Dating, Roommates, Smut, Useless Lesbian Lexa, Warning for some minor homophobia, hope ya'll enjoy, it's not heavy at all this is a pretty light fluffy smutty fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsAreMyWords/pseuds/DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: When Lexa's parents force her to attend a dinner with them involving a blind date with a colleague's son despite the fact that she’s a raging lesbian, her roommate Clarke offers to come with her as a buffer, maybe even flirt a little with the son to take the heat off Lexa. It doesn't exactly go as planned. You could say it's a hot mess, even.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 34
Kudos: 955
Collections: Clexaweek2020





	Hot Mess

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY LORD folks leave it to me to finally get hit with the muse right at the end of clexaweek and bang out (literally...ya'll don't even KNOW) 11k over the course of a couple days.
> 
> I also entirely blame my new tumblr buddy @amanda13parker. This fic was born through our mutual thirsting and imagining of Clexa sin. She made some wonderful nsfw art for this fic that's (hopefully, assuming technology cooperates) posted at the bottom of this fic!

* * *

It’s unbearably quiet. 

The kind of quiet Lexa only associates with her childhood home. The kind that feels unlived in, nothing but the stifling silence only occasionally broken up by the gentle ticking of the clock in the distant hallway. Perfect white carpet in the dining room; waxed hardwood floors in the kitchen mopped so clean there’s not a single particle of dirt marring it. Sometimes Lexa wants to walk through the halls running her hands along the walls, just to knock all the picture frames crooked. They’re filled with unsmiling family photographs that would probably look much more full of life if they were switched out with the generic stock photos that came with them. 

She hates this place. Glances to her left, where Clarke sits a little uncomfortably rigid beside her on the loveseat, and once more feels a pang of guilt that she’s somehow dragged her roommate into suffering here with her. Clarke senses her gaze, blue eyes shifting onto Lexa, narrowing when they spot her expression. Clarke pointedly nudges Lexa’s knee with her own, brows raising, and Lexa gets exactly what she’s saying— _stop looking so guilty, I signed up for this—_ but it doesn’t stop her from feeling bad about it. She tried to warn Clarke that she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but, well, Clarke is Clarke. When she has an idea, she goes all in and there’s no stopping her.

So when Lexa’s parents dropped by the college to visit some two weeks ago, and a single forty-minute dinner with them at the nearest fancy restaurant had Lexa slipping into a panic attack the moment she was alone in her dorm again with an alarmed roommate there to witness it, maybe she should have known this was coming.

“I have to go home in two weeks,” she’d gasped to Clarke, who knelt on the floor next to where Lexa was perched at the edge of bed, soothingly rubbing Lexa’s back as she sucked in stranged gasps of breath. “They said I don’t come home often enough. They said it’s not normal. They said they won’t pay for my schooling if I’m going to develop bad habits. They said—”

“Hey, hey,” Clarke had hushed her, reaching up with her free hand to push the hair out of Lexa’s sweating, tearful face. “You need to calm down. Just breathe for a minute, Lexa. Can you do that for me? That’s it. Breathe…” 

It had been a fairly difficult request, with those blue eyes focused so intently on her, and those hands touching her, and Clarke on her knees before her. All things considered, it was impressive Lexa managed to calm down at all, let alone enough to accompany Clarke on a late night stroll across campus to buy a smoothie from the juice bar ran by the Blake siblings at the corner of the street. 

“So basically,” Clarke had drawled, lips wrapped around the striped straw of her strawberry banana smoothie, “what you’re telling me is your parents are Dementors.”

“I mean. Yeah, pretty much.” Lexa walked alongside her, smoothie-less only because she’d sucked down a mango-a-go-go in record speed by the time Clarke’s smoothie and scone were ready for pick-up. Lexa shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets and kicked at one of the pinecones littering the street. 

“Soul sucking, heartless prison guards.”

“Yep.”

“Man. That’s rough, buddy.”

“Can you not quote Zuko at me right now, please? I’m having a moment.”

Clarke nodded sagely, slurping at her smoothie before wordlessly extending it for Lexa to take so she could use both hands to carefully unwrap her scone. Lexa stole a sip before handing it back, switching it for the piece of the scone Clarke offered her. 

“Chocolate.” Clarke flashed her a grin and Lexa tried to distract herself from the flutter in her chest and belly by sinking her teeth into the chocolate chip scone. “Okay, so, they suck. We’ve established that. And they want you to come home for dinner for yet another blind date with their colleague’s son, because they’re apparently blind to the fact that you’re a raging homosexual.” Clarke licked a pastry flake off her lips and Lexa tore her gaze away.

 _Such a raging homo,_ thought Lexa pitifully. 

“And you can’t get out of said dinner like you have been for the past like, dozen dinners, because your parents are threatening to stop paying for your school. Right?”

Lexa nodded miserably. She kicked another innocent pinecone, launching it toward a distance storm drain. 

“Hmm.” Clarke narrowed her eyes, absently licking the last bit of chocolate that clung to her fingertips. Lexa looked down for another pinecone to kick. “Couldn’t you just...pay your own way through school?”

“I’ve already tried. I’m already on academic scholarships, but all the fees....my parents make too much so I don’t get any financial aid.”

“This fucking country,” Clarke huffed, taking another slurp of smoothie. They walked on in silence for a moment before Clarke suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “Wait a minute. I have a brilliant idea.”

“What’s that?” asked Lexa tentatively, because living with Clarke Griffin for a semester and a half had already taught her that Clarke’s brilliant ideas usually involved something rather crazy. Such as the time she engaged in a pranking war with Raven Reyes, who roomed with Octavia Blake down the hall. Lexa came back to her room and found every single one of their items duct-taped to the ceiling. 

Clarke tossed her empty smoothie cup and the scone wrapper into the trash. “What if I came with you?”

Lexa’s brow furrowed. “Came with me where?”

“To the dinner!” Clarke’s eyes were so wide and blue Lexa had felt as though she was falling into the sky. And that’s why she was a raging homosexual and didn’t quite grasp what Clarke was saying. 

“Why would you come to the dinner?”

“To be the buffer! So you’re not stuck there alone with your parents and Chad.”

“Who is Chad?”

“Whatever khakis-with-flip-flops-and-Ray-Bans-wearing dude they’re trying to set you up with!”

Lexa could have laughed then, because that did sound suspiciously like the last four boys her parents tried to get her to date, if she weren’t so unnerved by the way Clarke seemed completely serious. Her heart melted. “Oh, Clarke. That’s really nice, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Lexa,” Clarke rolled her eyes, “You aren’t asking me anything. I’m offering.”

“Why would you want to come to this? Trust me, it’s not going to be fun. My parents are not even remotely in the realm of fun.”

“Hello!” Clarke poked her in the chest. “It’s _you_. I always have fun with you. An opportunity to hang out with you _and_ I get a free meal? Sign me up.”

“But…” Lexa didn’t know why she was trying so hard to find holes, but she was. “But. What about the guy?”

“Guy, the _guy?_ _Chad?_ ” Clarke scoffed. “Don’t even worry about him. A blip on the radar, Lex.” She stepped forward and Lexa had to fight the immediate impulse to step back. She swallows thickly when Clarke takes her hand. “How about it? Is it okay if I come with you? I’ll be your emotional support roommate.”

That pulled a chuckle out of Lexa, which had the smile on Clarke’s face growing wider. Her parents wouldn’t be happy about it, but honestly, who cares? They’re never happy anyway. She might as well have Clarke beside her, cracking jokes and making her smile. 

“Okay, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Clarke grinned and looped her arm through Lexa’s. Lexa nearly tripped over a pinecone as they started walking back toward the dorm. 

And now here they are. Clarke made jokes over the drive here, posing ridiculous theories as to Chad’s potential life story as a secret agent and teasing Lexa that she’s a secret agent herself to catch him until they pulled into the drive. Lexa’s mother ushered them inside, took their jackets and steered them over to the loveseat to wait for the other guests to arrive.

They do so a moment later. Lexa’s parents stand in the hall, opening the door to two men, who greet them with broad smiles as Lexa’s mother takes their jackets and hangs them up before turning to make introductions.

“You remember your father’s friend Colin Ross, don’t you Lexa? He runs the community and development relations office. And this is his son, Todrick.” 

Lexa barely manages to see past her mother’s all-teeth smile to see the generic white boy standing before her wearing a pale pink polo shirt and long khaki pants with a pair of loafers. She’s too busy trying not to squirm and make it obvious that Clarke just elbowed her in the ribs at Todrick’s introduction. Todrick Ross. Almost as bad as Chad. He smiles and offers a hand Lexa quickly shakes.

“This is my Clar— my, my friend and college roommate Clarke,” says Lexa, wincing at herself for the odd introduction, but Clarke takes it in stride, extending her arm to shake Todrick’s hand.

“Hey there. Mind if I call you Todd?” Clarke raises her brows and Todrick politely says that’s totally fine. Then Clarke gestures at his shirt. “I like the pink.”

“Thanks. It’s salmon.”

Another elbow to Lexa’s ribs, as soon as Todrick is busy tucking his Ray-Bans into the v-neck of his shirt and greeting Lexa’s father. She turns to face Clarke, whose eyes are shining with mirth, and Lexa tries to bite back her own grin as she and Clarke scuffle for a moment trying to poke each other in the ribs, until Lexa’s mother sweetly calls out her name (which tells Lexa she’s probably very perturbed and annoyed at Lexa’s behavior) and Lexa turns around with a sobered expression as behind her, Clarke stifles her snicker in Lexa’s shoulder and briefly squeezes her hips as she leans in to do so. Lexa trips a little over the carpet and Clarke bites back the laughter that escapes out her nose. Lexa doesn’t miss the daggers her parents are throwing her and remembers, quite unhappily, that the point of this isn’t to piss them off even more. She clears her throat and takes her seat at the table. 

They settle into dinner. One thing Lexa can at least always count on is the food, since her parents have a personal chef to prepare it. It’s always delicious and this time is no different. She knows this because Clarke keeps taking bites and shooting Lexa wide-eyed looks as though to say _holy shit can you believe how good this is,_ and Lexa keeps deadpanning her back as if saying _yes I know but that doesn’t make the dinners any more enjoyable you know_. Meanwhile, everyone else is having an actual conversation that Lexa and even Clarke are expected to occasionally participate in. 

There are more than a few uncomfortable moments. Lexa’s mother is really pushing for Lexa to go on a date with Todrick, particularly to be his date to the charity fundraiser the company is throwing next week. Todrick, for what it’s worth, doesn’t actually seem that bad a guy. Still repulsive in Lexa’s eyes, of course, but at least he doesn’t smell overwhelmingly of cologne to the point where it’s stinging Lexa’s eyes to sit across from him like the last guy. Or have disgusting greasy hair slicked back like the guy before him.

But all in all? It’s the best dinner Lexa’s had with her parents for a long time. All thanks to Clarke.

Clarke, who’s been _fantastic_. Chiming into the conversations with all the social grace of the extrovert Lexa could never bring herself to be. Answering Lexa’s parents’ barbed questions and circumventing potential setups where they try to frame her against Lexa, an art major versus poli-sci, in transparent attempts to make Lexa seem all the more impressive to Todrick, who doesn’t seem that interested in Lexa at all actually. She thawed through Lexa’s parents’ frostiness and now even has Todrick and his father captivated by her, listening avidly as she tells her tales of woe of the times she spends over summers volunteering in the hospital her mother works at busting her back for cranky patients who don’t like to follow the rules. 

By the time they’ve finished their entrees, Lexa’s parents are smiling at Clarke like she’s the daughter they’ve never had, and the Rosses are booming with laughter at Clarke’s latest story. And Lexa, who can occasionally feel Clarke’s foot nudging her own beneath the table, is beyond grateful Clarke came with her. It’s such a relief to be able to sit through a dinner without being grilled by her parents about her grades and her every decision at school, let alone fielding invasive questions by guys who don’t understand she’s never going to be interested in dating them. 

Of course, like many good things, eventually it comes to an end. When Todrick asks Clarke if she’s seeing anyone at college (she gives a deliberately obtuse response that she sees quite a few people in class, and Todrick seems to recognize it for the coy response it is, grinning as though it’s a challenge; and Lexa suddenly isn’t sure if she wants to kick Todrick in the shin or accidentally step on Clarke’s foot). Mr Ross politely suggests Lexa must be beating all the boys off with a bat, eager to sweep a woman like herself off her feet, and Lexa in turn suggests she doesn’t pay much attention to boys at all to notice. Which he gets it, Lexa can see that he does, and he only raises his brows and politely nods, but it’s enough. Lexa’s parents then have the most transparent response of cutting across Lexa— her mother stating Lexa hasn’t yet met the right man yet, her father suggesting they gravitate toward the living room to see the new outdoor patio the builders have been working on while they wait for the desserts to be prepared, and Lexa isn’t at all sorry for the look her mother shoots her when she suggests she and Clarke will wait here.

They leave them in silence and for a minute, Lexa and Clarke just breathe. 

“So they’re homophobes,” says Clarke bluntly.

“They’re...homophobes. Yeah.”

“I guess I already knew that. Kinda hoped maybe they didn’t know and were just oblivious.”

“They know. I had girlfriends in high school and my first couple years of college. My mom liked to introduce them as my friends.”

“She gal-pal’d you, huh?”

“Yup.”

Clarke hums in noncommittal response, leaning up from her seat to peer over the half-wall that separates them from the hallway that holds the door to the living room, where the top of Todrick’s head is just visible. “Oh, God, he’s looking at me.”

Lexa snickers. “Tod?”

Clarke sits back in her seat, looking at Lexa with a sort of scandalized disbelief. “I know, can you believe it? That’s so much worse than Chad.”

“So much worse,” agrees Lexa. 

“He should bone Chad.”

“We don’t even know a Chad.”

“No, but if we did, he’d be so deep in the closet he’d be living in it. _Salmon.”_ Clarke snorts derisively. “Sorry, that’s so not progressive of me. But man. I don’t even spend that much time doing my own hair.”

“Well, I think he likes you, so you could find out.”

“He doesn’t like me,” says Clarke with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s just playing along. That’s what people do. They politely flirt. It’s just banter.”

Lexa’s not really sure why her mood is souring. It’s nothing new. Clarke had brought a few guys back to their dorm room before, especially in the first few months they lived together. Nothing surprising and nothing that should bother Lexa. Sure, she might have a crush on her beautiful blonde roommate, but that’s because Lexa is a typical dumbass lesbian (except Lexa never had a crush on any of her other roommates, who were admittedly gorgeous too, and Luna had even made a pass at her once. But Clarke is different. Clarke is special. And also absolutely never going to happen so why is Lexa even thinking about this again? Jesus). “I bet you a smoothie he asks you out by the end of the night.”

“Mmm, I don’t think I’m going to take that bet,” says Clarke, smiling apologetically. She tilts her head when she notices the way Lexa isn’t smiling at all, but slumped down in her chair a bit, arms crossed beneath her chest. “Anyway, he’s here for you, isn’t he? You’re going to have to let him down gently.”

Lexa snorts. “Clarke, I’m definitely not the one he’s into.”

“Well, if he’s into me, I’m not going to let him down gently.” At Lexa’s puzzled glance, Clarke casually continues, “I’m here to take the heat off of you, right? So I’m going to have to dramatically reject him. Is there a fancy gravy bowl I can smash on the floor or anything?”

Her parents would probably kill Lexa if anything was spilled on their pristine floors. It almost makes Lexa wish Clarke was being serious. And that they did have a gravy bowl. Which they probably do, somewhere. 

“You’re supposed to smash it on his head, not the floor.”

“Ooh, good thinking.” Clarke smiles, waits for Lexa to smile back, and when she only gives her a half-hearted one, leans forward to nudge her shoulder into Lexa’s. “Come on. I miss your smile.” Lexa bares her teeth and Clarke snorts. “Vicious. About as deadly as a cute little raccoon.”

“All you do is insult me,” says Lexa, mock-disgruntled.

Clarke’s smile stretches. She nudges Lexa again, then puts her hand back on her knee and squeezes rapidly, grinning when Lexa yelps and squirms.

“You know I hate being tickled,” protests Lexa, shoving Clarke away, but when Clarke puts her hand back on her leg— this time a little higher, more on her thigh than her knee— she doesn’t move it. 

“Is it really insulting that the guy your parents are trying to hook you up with is into me instead? I would think it’s convenient. Or was this your plan all along? You brought me along to pimp me out.”

“First of all, it was your idea to come,” says Lexa with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms again and ignoring Clarke’s chuckle. “Secondly, it is not convenient. At all. It’s inconvenient.”

“Oh?” Clarke’s hand is still warm on Lexa’s thigh. “And why’s that?”

Lexa blusters as she casts around for something to say. Why did she say that? “Because.”

“Because why?” Is Clarke’s hand inching higher or is Lexa imagining it? 

“Because...because if you go out with him my parents are never going to let me hear the end of it.” No, she’s definitely imagining it. Lexa suddenly uncrosses her arms and leans forward across the table for her glass of water. Clarke pulls back with the move, her hand returning to her own lap. She’s quiet for a second as Lexa gulps down half her glass.

“Well,” she drawls when Lexa’s set the glass down. Clarke glances over the half wall again, and runs her hand through her hair. “I guess I’m going to have to discourage him, then.”

Lexa leans back in her chair again, looking at Clarke. She frowns and reaches out without thinking to fix the flyaway gold tresses Clarke had mussed up. Ignores the bright blue that focuses on her as she quickly runs her fingertips down to adjust Clarke’s hair until it’s righted. They dart away the moment Lexa looks toward them. “And how are you going to do that?”

“I think you should kiss me.”

Lexa nearly chokes on her own tongue. _“What?”_

“Yeah.” Clarke nods as though to reassure herself, and can’t quite meet Lexa’s eyes. She chews her bottom lip and looks rather intently at the intricate lace of the table cloth she traces her finger across. “I think it’s the best way to say fuck you to them. You could kiss me.”

Lexa splutters. Kiss her? But it’s _Clarke_. Her roommate. And friend. Her heterosexual friend. 

“But I...I thought you were trying to get rid of him?”

“Exactly,” says Clarke, quickly glancing at her before her gaze skitters away again. She shrugs. “What better way to say fuck you than to see the girl you’re supposed to be on a blind date with kissing the girl you’ve been flirting with instead? Or do you not think he was into me much?”

“Of course he was,” says Lexa with a frown. That’s definitely not the problem here. Well, not the only problem. “How could he not be?”

“I mean.” Clarke scratches her nail on the table cloth. “He could not be.”

“No he couldn’t,” says Lexa dismissively. Her jaw tightens and she looks away, glaring toward the direction Todrick went. “He’s not that big of an idiot.”

Clarke looks up questioningly and Lexa can’t believe she doesn’t get it. She almost rolls her eyes. 

“Clarke, of _course_ he was into you. You’re amazing, you’re making all these funny jokes that even my parents are enjoying and they don’t enjoy anything. You’re always so sincere about everything, like you make these jokes but they’re never mean jokes, not really. And you’re smart, everyone hangs on your every word and you can see it, especially with how passionate you get when you’re talking about your major, I mean you completely light up. And you’re gorgeous, all the time but especially tonight, that dress looks amazing and your hair and your face and everything, no one can take their eyes off you.” Lexa realizes she is staring at her but she can’t quite bring herself to stop. 

Clarke’s throat dips as she swallows. “Yeah,” she says quickly, taking in a deep breath and this time seemingly unable to look away from Lexa at all. She nods again. “Yeah, I definitely think we should kiss.”

Lexa’s face warms again and she looks away, unable to remain looking at those blue eyes. “But…I mean...you’re straight, Clarke, wouldn’t this be... _weird,_ for you?” Clarke abruptly draws back and stares at Lexa, astonished, her mouth hanging open. So long that Lexa is unsettled, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “What?”

Clarke slowly brings her lips together. “Lexa.” She shakes her head without moving her stunned gaze from Lexa. “Lexa.” She hasn’t even blinked. _“Lexa.”_

“What?” demands Lexa, feeling as though she’s missing something obvious now.

 _“Lexa.”_ Lexa’s about to snap if Clarke says her name one more time, but then Clarke finally blinks and looks down at her knees as though she can’t believe her own eyes before she shifts them back up to meet Lexa’s. She leans forward and Lexa swallows again as Clarke is suddenly right in her space, and she thinks Clarke is going to say her name again because her lips are framing the word. But she doesn’t. Clarke leans in even more, and Lexa sees long lashes flutter over blue eyes before she feels the soft pressure of Clarke’s mouth on hers. 

Oh, God. Clarke is kissing her. Clarke is _kissing_ her and is really, _really_ good at it. Lexa has to fight back the moan that tries to crawl its way up her throat, her eyes slamming shut as Clarke pulls back just a little to press in again, lips closing over Lexa’s bottom lip and drawing it back with her movement. Closing over it again. Teeth biting down, just slightly. A tongue sliding wet and warm over the indention. 

Lexa sucks in a breath and it’s like she remembers she’s an active participant in this all at once and oh my God she has to be good at this too because this might be the only time she ever gets to kiss Clarke and she has to— 

She loses all train of thought when Clarke’s tongue meets her own. Just sinks into it, all instinct, opening her mouth and deepening the kiss, her hands raising from their white-knuckled grip on her chair to cup the back of Clarke’s neck. Their lips move together, whispers of motion, and Lexa is all too aware of where Clarke’s hands are; one on Lexa’s knee, the other cupping her face, Clarke’s thumb drifting across the sharp ridge of Lexa’s jaw and cool fingertips lingering just beneath her ear. 

Clarke finally pulls back when Lexa’s hands tangle in her hair, breaking the kiss but not moving very far away, their lips still brushing, her hand shifting around to gently cup the back of Lexa’s neck.

“Lexa,” says Clarke again, just a whisper this time, and okay. That’s okay. Clarke can say her name over and over and over again forever if she wants. At this proximity too. Lexa opens hazy eyes to see dark, dark blue directly before her. She blinks slowly, watching as Clarke leans back a little more to look at her, slowly like she’s finding difficulty dragging her gaze from Lexa’s lips. “Lex,” she says one more time, and Lexa’s eyes nearly flutter shut at the sound. She focuses when Clarke squeezes the back of her neck, looking intently at Lexa. Clarke raises her brows. “In case it wasn’t already obvious before... I am a _raging_ _bisexual_.” As if her body wasn’t already flushed with heat, more of it floods through Lexa’s veins. One corner of Clarke’s mouth tips up first, and then the other, in a slow, incredulous smile. “Honestly, how could you ever think I’m straight? I mean, I’m a little offended.”

“I…” Lexa just looks at Clarke, at a loss for words and still lost in that kiss. Clarke realizes, smile curling up even more on one side, crooked and smug and incredibly attractive. Lexa licks her lips and Clarke’s smirk fades as her eyes catch on it. They both lean forward.

But then there’s the sound of the hall door opening that lets the murmur of voices in, and Clarke leans back, glancing up. Lexa can tell, by the way Clarke’s lips quirk, that Todrick must have seen it. Seen everything. 

And while Lexa isn’t exactly pleased that their first kiss wasn’t as private as she’d like, part of her can’t be anything except on cloud nine because she _kissed_ _Clarke_ , and judging by the way Clarke is still looking at her with eyes a much darker shade of blue than Lexa is used to seeing, Lexa can’t help but think that wasn’t going to be their _only_ kiss.

Butterflies explode in her belly and she can barely resist the urge to squirm in her seat or throw up a fist in triumph when Clarke reaches under the table to put her hand on her wrist and squeeze. Only briefly, because then the others are filing back into the room, the two fathers lost in some conversation about the stock market as they puff on cigars, and Lexa’s mother directing probing questions at Todd about juggling grad papers with working part-time at his father’s office. They gravitate back toward the kitchen table where Lexa and Clarke are still sitting; it’s still laden with plates of half-finished food not yet cleared away for the dessert portion.

“Please tell me dessert involves chocolate,” Clarke says under her breath. Lexa’s heart thumps as she meets her gaze. 

“It’s usually some type of cake,” she murmurs back. She can’t help the way her eyes dart to Clarke’s lips, or how she licks her own. She wants to kiss her again. 

Clarke seems to notice. The corners of her lips quirk up. She leans toward Lexa, whose heart jumps up into her throat, but it’s only to tilt under the curtain of their hair to whisper, “You seem pretty distracted. Are you sure you’re going to make it through dessert?”

Lexa swallows thickly. Before she can say anything, she feels eyes on her and looks up to see her mother’s narrowed gaze. Clarke leans back, though Lexa doesn’t miss the way she’s biting her bottom lip to suppress a smile, or how she nudges her foot beneath the table. 

“So Lexa,” begins Lexa’s mother, voice unnaturally bright and perky; Lexa is immediately suspicious. Did her mother see anything…? But no. It had to have only been Todrick. Her mother would be raising all sorts of hell if she’d glimpsed Lexa kissing a girl. Her father too. “What do you say about the gala?”

Lexa takes a breath. This isn’t going to go well. She knows it’s a waste of time— she’s had many a futile conversation with her mother trying to convince her she’s gay and it’s not a phase, but it always goes in one ear and out the other. Normally she just brushes it aside and blows her mom off with excuses because it’s easier that way. But right now, after just having the most mindblowing kiss of her life with Clarke, she can’t bring herself to be anything but honest.

Before she can say anything, however, Todrick speaks.

“Oh, no, ma’am, I wouldn’t want to tear her away from her girlfriend,” says Todrick seriously, looking between Lexa and Clarke. The words have a furious blush heating Lexa’s face, all the way to the tips of her glowing ears. She suddenly can’t bring herself to look at Clarke, so she glances at her mother instead. She’s as white as a sheet. Todrick seems oblivious, smiling easily at Lexa now. “I’m okay, anyway, I’ll probably bring my boyfriend. Maybe. He thinks the galas are a snoozefest so I’ll probably have to bribe him by offering to watch the latest Avengers movie with him.” Todrick pulls a face.

Todrick’s father nods gravely beside him in agreement, mustache rippling. “It is a terrible movie,” he says gruffly, blowing out a puff of smoke. “They all are, really.”

Lexa’s mother is silent, goggling at them. Lexa’s father, who is equally pale, grips the back of the chair he stands above, his brow furrowing and lips twisting around his cigar. “I like the Avengers,” he says lamely, voice weak. Lexa’s mother shoots him a dark look.

Clarke pokes Lexa in the back of her ribs and Lexa swats at her hand, capturing it in her own. Lexa’s parents stare as their fingers intertwine.

“I loved Black Panther,” Clarke chimes in. “And Deadpool. I liked Thor Ragnarok too.”

“Captain Marvel,” grunts Todrick’s father. Everyone hums in agreement except for Lexa’s mother, who is now glaring at Lexa.

At this rate Lexa’s going to be a college dropout. With Clarke’s hand in hers, she’s not really sure she cares anymore. 

“Lexa, can I speak to you? In private?” her mother adds sharply when Lexa doesn’t immediately respond.

She exchanges a look with Clarke and stands up, sighing heavily. She follows her mother into the kitchen out of view.

Her mother rounds on her at once. “Your behavior is unacceptable,” she harshly whispers. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not trying to do anything to you,” recites Lexa, voice hollow. She’s already bored of this conversation. “You’re the one who insisted I come here.”

“Yes, to meet Todrick, and you’re making a mess of it!”

Lexa barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Mom, you heard him, he has a boyfriend!”

Her mother flinches at the words and otherwise ignores them. “And Clarke. Why did you have to bring her here with you?”

“You seemed to like Clarke ten minutes ago.”

“She’s a lovely girl,” her mother admits grudgingly, which almost has Lexa’s eyes widening. Coming from her mother, that’s practically a compliment of worship. “But— I’m afraid you two have grown too close living together as you do. It can— it can send the wrong message.”

“Like what?” snaps Lexa, losing her patience now.

“Hey!” They’re interrupted by Clarke, who’s smiling brightly as she enters the kitchen. Lexa shoots her a look that’s even more perplexed than her mother, but Clarke ignores it as she comes to stand beside her. “The boys are talking about football again. I thought I’d escape in here to see if dessert is coming along.”

“We haven’t prepared anything yet,” says Lexa’s mother tersely. The skin around her eyes tightens as Clarke loops her arm through Lexa’s and rests her head on her shoulder. Lexa feels another blush tinting her cheeks.

“You know, my boyfriend Chad makes the best desserts.”

Lexa stiffens. Her mother’s entire expression changes, morphing into surprise. Clarke smiles and pats Lexa’s arm. 

“Lexa knows. Do you remember those chocolate chip scones he made once?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Lexa, startling to attention when Clarke discreetly pinches her arm. “They were delicious.”

Lexa’s mother stares at Clarke, taken aback but quickly moving past it. She clears her throat and stands up a little straighter, adjusting her expensive blouse as if her hands need something to do. “He enjoys baking?”

“Loves it. His brother does too.”

Oh God. Lexa stares at Clarke. Clarke smiles at her mother. Lexa’s mother immediately perks up, any lingering clouds of doubt slipping off her face. 

“He has a brother?” 

“Yep. Lexa didn’t tell you? They’re supposed to go out for coffee this Thursday.”

Lexa doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or groan. Her mother’s never going to let her hear the end of this. But it’s also wiped away all animosity toward her. Indeed, her mother is beaming like never before as she turns to appraise Lexa as though seeing her in a whole new light. 

“I guess she was holding out on me! Oh, Lexa, you could have told me. Here I am trying to push you into Todrick’s arms when you’re already taken!”

“We’re not dating,” says Lexa, this time actually with an eye roll, “We’re just going out for a coffee, Mom, that’s all.”

“Oh, nonsense, everyone knows that’s a date,” her mother simpers, smiling widely as she playfully swats at Lexa’s shoulder. “Goodness, you’ll have to call me and tell me everything. What’s he like?”

“A little annoying, actually,” says Lexa, fighting off a smile when Clarke pinches her arm again. “He never shares his food with me.”

“That’s a lie!” exclaims Clarke. “I’ve seen him give you the last drink of his favorite smoothie. That’s true friendship right there.”

“Sounds like true love to me,” says Lexa’s mother with a smile.

Lexa and Clarke freeze, until Clarke coughs rather loudly and Lexa rubs the back of her own neck for something to do, flustered. Lexa’s mother doesn’t seem to notice. She just steps forward, smiling, and pats Lexa’s cheek. 

“I’m happy for you,” she says, almost smug as she aims her smile at Clarke now. “And for you. It’s nice to see you girls exploring your options and finding boys that make you happy. Good for you both.” She steps back with a happy sigh. “Well, now for the bad news I’m afraid. Our baker had to cancel, personal emergency or something,” Lexa’s mother waves her hand with a roll of her eye, “so there’s no dessert. But Colin invited us all out to his country club to have dessert catered in! Isn’t that just lovely?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s great,” says Lexa, mind racing. “But, uh, we actually have some big tests coming up, so we were going to study together.”

Lexa can already tell by the way her mother’s brows turn that it’s going to be another argument where her mother insists. But luckily, Clarke to the rescue.

“Plus you have that facetime date with Chaz.”

Lexa blinks. Clarke gives her a bland smile, almost aggressively tranquil. _Chaz? Seriously?_

Of course the only part of that Lexa’s mother really pays attention to is the date. She coos, clasping her hands together and looking positively charmed. “Oh, say no more! We’ll go on our own. You two stay here. We’ll be back in a few hours. I’ll go tell the boys.”

She casts them one last beaming smile before walking away, leaving Clarke and Lexa alone in the kitchen, arms still looped together. Lexa looks incredulously at Clarke.

“Chaz?” she whispers, “We’re dating brothers named Chaz and Chad? Really?”

“It was the first name that popped in my head!” Clarke laughs quietly, turning to face Lexa. She’s standing much more closely than she ever did before today. Lexa is not complaining, but she does lose her train of thought as she studies each curve and angle of Clarke’s face at proximity. Clarke is beautiful. Lexa can’t believe she’s kissed her.

And Clarke is drinking Lexa in just as intently, before she blinks a few times as though shaking herself out of it, and rises to her toes to peer over Lexa, making sure no one is near the kitchen.

“About that kiss—” begins Clarke in a rush, but Lexa interrupts her. 

“Was it bad?” says Lexa anxiously. It wasn’t bad for her. It was really really good actually. But if Clarke is having second feelings and doubts, maybe— 

“What, are you kidding? No, shut up. Listen. It was amazing and I can’t stop thinking about it,” Clarke’s voice is pitched low; it crawls beneath Lexa’s skin and makes a home somewhere in the pit of her stomach, fluttering heavy and warm. Clarke looks up at her beneath her lashes, dark blue so easy to get lost in. “I think we should do it again.”

Lexa’s mouth goes dry, more than aware Clarke’s gaze has shifted onto her lips now. She can’t help the way her own drifts, focuses on the full pink lips that she now knows feel even softer than they look. Lexa watches Clarke’s tongue poke out to wet them, curving slightly over the bottom, slow and deliberate. Lexa swallows thickly. When she finally drags her gaze up to see Clarke watching her with a heavy-lidded gaze, biting her lip when their eyes meet, Lexa can’t take it anymore. 

She pushes Clarke back against the fridge and crashes their lips together. Muffles the little noise Clarke makes that gets caught in her throat and lost in the seam of Lexa’s lips before she parts them, tongue seeking entrance. Clarke grants it in a heartbeat, hands coming up to scrabble and clutch at Lexa’s back, twisting in the fabric of her top and tugging slightly like she wants it off. They slip under the hem a moment later, the shock of fingertips drifting across her bare skin driving her to bite Clarke’s lip and suckle it for a moment, her own hands shifting from Clarke’s waist around to the back, cupping her ass, except Clarke is wearing a dress and it’s a short one— Lexa’s fingers graze against the smooth firm skin of Clarke’s bare ass covered by the flimsiest scrap of lace. Arousal punches Lexa in the gut, has her head actually spinning, and Clarke gasps as Lexa’s grip on her ass tightens. 

Lexa immediately loosens her hold, pulling back to blink at Clarke. “Too much?”

“Nope. That’s— that’s good. That’s really really good. I think you should do it again. Yeah. Fuck,” Clarke shudders, hand tightening on Lexa’s arm, and if Lexa wasn’t already turned on she certainly was now after hearing that word leave Clarke’s lips like that. 

She kisses her again, and again, entirely forgetting that her parents and two strangers are standing only feet away just outside the kitchen. Until she hears her father call her name to say goodbye, and she and Clarke stumble apart just in time for him to pop his head in. 

They stammer a goodbye to him and then shoot each other furtive, heated glances, quickly readjusting their clothing before returning to the dining room on shaky legs. Todrick and his father politely shake Lexa and Clarke’s hands, bidding them farewell. Lexa’s father nods at them, which is his equivalent of a hug, and walks out the door with them. Lexa’s mother is the last to leave, shrugging on her jacket and gathering her purse and phone before heading out.

Her mother pauses just before the door and looks back at her. “You know, Lexa, I’m really proud of you. It was high time you grew up and put that ridiculous phase and all its nonsense behind you.” She gives another self-satisfied smile, adjusting her expensive purse on her arm. Lexa doesn’t quite understand how she can feel so elated and full of light one moment only to have her mother violently snuff it out the next. Lexa is actually trembling, anger striking cold and cruel in her bones. “You girls have a good time. See you later. Oh, and Lexa,” her mother pauses again, holding the door open before her to twist round to look at Lexa, “Can you put away all the leftovers? Just throw away the food and put the dishes in the sink for Helga to clean later. And _don’t_ make a mess,” she adds warningly, eyes flashing. Lexa can’t even bring herself to offer a stiff nod, but her mother doesn’t care anyway. She calls out another goodbye and closes the door behind her.

Lexa stands there for a moment, a muscle jumping in her clenched jaw.

“I’m sorry your parents are assholes,” Clarke offers, and it’s so matter-of-fact and casual that all at once it melts most of Lexa’s anger away, and she laughs a little. 

Lexa exhales, cheeks puffing as she blows out a breath and turns to look at the filled table she’s supposed to clear off. Part of her wants to just leave it out of spite. And well, what’s stopping her?

“Do you think we should just leave?”

“I think you should fuck me on this table.”

 _“What?”_ Lexa splutters. Heat abruptly floods her body and it’s not just because of her furious blush. Clarke is looking at her with a crooked smile, her eyes dark and knowing, leaning a hip up against the table.

“They aren’t home. They won’t be home for another couple hours at least.” Clarke leans forward, nose tracing the sharp edge of Lexa’s jaw as her lips skim across soft skin. “Let me do this for you.”

Lexa’s body burns, with arousal and something that tastes bitterly of shame. She doesn’t want to be a pity fuck. “No, Clarke—”

“Lexa.” Clarke draws back, levels a blue gaze on Lexa that’s far darker than what she’s used to. “I _want_ you to fuck me. I want _you_.”

Lexa gapes at her. “You…”

“I want you to fuck me, yes. God, have you _seen_ yourself? You’re gorgeous. I nearly knocked myself out the other day trying not to look at you while you were changing because every time I do I feel like a creep. I think I get myself off like, every time I shower. You’ve been driving me crazy for months. You _do_ know I’ve been hitting on you since the minute we moved in, right?”

What the hell. Lexa just goggles at her. No, Lexa did not know that. 

“Lexa, have you ever heard of a useless lesbian?” asks Clarke, amused. “Because you’re like the walking definition of it.”

It’s said fondly, full of affection, but Lexa still finds herself blushing and feeling a little foolish.

“I mean you assumed I was straight, for one,” continues Clarke, still bearing a crooked smile as she rests her arm on Lexa’s shoulder so she can play with Lexa’s hair. “It’s not like I didn’t have girls I was sleeping with come over. Niylah was in our dorm too many times to count. We literally shared a bed every time. How on earth could you miss that?”

“Oh, God,” realizes Lexa, balking. She screws up her face and claps her hand over it. “I’m like my mother. I totally gal-pal’d you.”

She hears Clarke snort before a hand closes around her wrist and gently urges her hand off her face. The lines in Lexa’s brow relax and her nose unwrinkles when Clarke presses a faint kiss to the tip of it. “You’re adorable.”

“I guess maybe I convinced myself you were straight,” mumbles Lexa, distracted as Clarke presses another kiss, this time just underneath her jaw. “I kind of...have had a crush on you since I met you, but...you were my roommate. Everyone knows you can’t, um, roommates are supposed to be off-limits. I guess in some bizarre twist of attempted self-preservation I managed to convince myself there was no possible way I ever could have had a chance with you because you were straight.”

Clarke hums, clearly even more amused by the reveal, and presses a kiss to the skin just beneath Lexa’s ear, humming again in approval when Lexa gives the tiniest of gasps in response. “There’s a rainbow flag in the mug on the desk next to my bed. And a bisexual pride button on my bag. And I listen to Hayley Kiyoko like, a _lot_.”

“I thought you were a great ally,” says Lexa pitifully, hands flexing on Clarke’s hips. She feels like she’s about to explode. 

Clarke’s chuckle vibrates Lexa’s throat as she presses burning open-mouthed kisses there. “Not an ally,” murmurs Clarke, her tongue dipping out to tease Lexa’s earlobe before she pulls it into her mouth and bites. “I’ve wanted to fuck your brains out for a very long time, Lexa.”

That’s _it._

Clarke’s gasp is lost, swallowed up by Lexa as their mouths collide. Clarke’s ass slams into the table as the force of Lexa’s kiss pushes them forward; Lexa grips Clarke’s hips to help soften the hit, pulling up as Clarke rises onto her toes to avoid the surface jarring her, and then Lexa is standing between Clarke’s legs as Clarke sits atop the table, her arms wrapping around Lexa’s neck and legs hooking around Lexa’s waist to urge her closer, and even through her clothes Lexa can feel the heat emanating from between Clarke’s legs, and thanks to that short dress being hiked up she can see the top of Clarke’s pale thighs and the lacy underwear at the apex and Lexa’s pushing her hips into her without a second thought. It’s like a lit match to kerosine and has the pace immediately ramping up.

Cutlery crashes to the floor as they scramble, Lexa clawing Clarke’s dress sleeves off her shoulders, Clarke’s hands tangled in her hair as Lexa lowers her lips to her exposed chest, sucks bruising kisses over the swells of her breasts as she’s wanted to all day. The bowl of salad explodes over the carpet as Clarke’s ass scoots farther back on the table, her legs splitting wider so Lexa can fit better between them. 

“Is this okay?” asks Lexa breathlessly, her heart thundering as her hands slide up to cup full breasts. 

“God, yes,” gasps Clarke, arching into her tongue, shivering as Lexa’s thumbs skim over nipples that are stiff even through the silky fabric of her dress. 

Lexa can’t believe this is happening. Months of pining after her roommate, averting her eyes when Clarke changed, suppressing the flutters in her belly with every casual touch. Trying not to think about the fact that seeing Clarke after her classes was always the highlight of her day, and she’d actually cancel plans with other friends if only for the opportunity to walk across campus to grab smoothies with Clarke. That sometimes she’d fall asleep and wake up facing across the room looking at Clarke’s bed, heart aching.

And now she was in her arms, and breathing heavily as Lexa touched her, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes a hazy darker blue than Lexa had ever seen them, and by all appearances, every bit as desperate as Lexa was for Lexa to be inside her.

“Is this okay?” Lexa checks again, hand on Clarke’s warm bare thigh. 

“Yes, yes. Please,” breathes Clarke, hips canting up, seeking friction against Lexa. Lexa kisses her again, loses herself in it until her fingers brush against lace and Clarke shudders, breaking the kiss with a strangled gasp. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

God, Lexa can smell her. Can smell her arousal, musky and rich. Can feel the wet warmth as she slides her thumb along the ridges of the lace. She leans back a little, watching the ripple effect as her thumb drifts over the soft line of Clarke’s vulva, over the stiff bump of her clit. Clarke’s breath hitches into a whine, lashes fluttering. Still, Lexa hooks her thumb into the lace and then hesitates.

“Is this—” 

“Lexa, I love how important consent is to you but I’m giving you blanket-consent right now. You can touch me anywhere. You can do whatever you want to me.” Clarke licks a stripe up Lexa’s neck, bites at her earlobe and nuzzles into the moan it sends rumbling up Lexa’s throat. “Just, _please_. Fuck me. I wanna feel you inside me. Right now.”

Lexa has to actually brace herself against the table. Her legs are weak; Clarke’s words genuinely have her close to the edge, Jesus. She moves in a flurry again, yanking Clarke’s underwear down her legs and throwing them behind her. They both exhale a shaky breath when Lexa’s fingers trip into slick warmth, circling Clarke’s clit for a moment, Lexa putting her free hand on Clarke’s waist to hold her down when she bucks, before she gravitates down to her soaked entrance.

“How many fingers do you like?”

Clarke whines. “What part of _anything_ didn’t you understand?”

Lexa smirks, deciding to start off with just one. She throbs at the sensation, at the tight wet cling around her finger, the way Clarke’s inner muscles clench around her. The way Clarke moans when Lexa adds another, curving them. Slowly starts moving in and out, mouth open to suck in a haggard breath at the sounds of wetness breaking the silence of her parents’ home. Clarke slams her other hand down on the table, nails audibly digging into the wood as she grips tightly and holds on, bracing herself as she grinds her hips, hips jostling to keep up with the rhythm as Lexa picks up the pace. 

Soon enough Lexa is pounding deep, curling her fingers on every other thrust. With each pass that has her fingertips bumping against the ridged texture of Clarke’s inner walls, Clarke’s moans strengthen in volume and pitch. It isn’t until Lexa presses the pad of her thumb against her swollen clit that Clarke breaks, spilling into Lexa’s hand. She shudders and writhes in Lexa’s arms, body shaking violently as the orgasm washes over her until she’s melting down with tiny twitches and convulsions, burying her flushed face in the warm crook of Lexa’s neck. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything as good as you moaning my name like that,” whispers Lexa honestly, breathing in the mixture of aromas, the heavenly scent of Clarke’s arousal and the sweet smell of her hair as Lexa presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“You can hear it again if you want,” offers Clarke, voice husky as she leans back to face Lexa. She’s rosy and sweaty, smiling and sated. She slants her mouth over Lexa’s, kisses her softly and then harder, tugging at Lexa’s shirt until Lexa gets the hint and lifts her arms. She pulls off Lexa’s shirt and carelessly tosses it away, dark eyes roving a hungry path across Lexa’s mostly bare torso that she follows with her hand, shifting over Lexa’s bra and down her stomach, abdomen muscles twitching and quivering in her wake. 

Lexa slides her own hands up Clarke’s thighs, her right painting Clarke’s skin with her own wetness. She moves up until Clarke lifts her own arms so Lexa can peel off her dress, followed by her lacy bra. Lexa has to take a step back just to suck in some air, then, because Clarke is sitting on her kitchen table completely naked, and is absolutely the most beautiful woman Lexa’s ever seen. She tells her as much, smiling when Clarke gives a pretty blush in response before yanking Lexa close and kissing her until she loses her breath all over again.

Soon Lexa is inside her again, free arm hooked around to press her palm into the small of Clarke’s back to hold her steady and her mouth busy on Clarke’s breasts, tongue rolling over a hard nipple. Clarke is tight around her two fingers, drenched and throbbing. 

“I can take three,” chokes Clarke, gasping as Lexa moves inside her, clutching at her shoulders. 

“You sure?”

Clarke makes a noise that could have been a chuckle but sounds more like a moan, licking her lips. “Positive. I wanna feel you filling me up, stretching me out.” Oh, God, and if Lexa wasn’t already been wet since the moment they kissed earlier, she certainly is now. Lexa adds a third finger and pushes in, nipping at Clarke’s neck as she does so. “I’m— I’m going to have to show you some of the straps I have hidden in our dorm.”

Lexa’s legs threaten to buckle beneath her. “You have them hidden in our room?” she says weakly.

“Well duh. My underwear drawer, where else? You have no idea how many times I’ve used them on myself imagining it was you,” she says, voice low, and Lexa snaps, thrusting into her faster, harder, Clarke’s cries filling the room. The swaying of the table has more dishes falling to the floor, but Lexa is so far from caring about her parents’ reactions to their ruined china and stained carpet.

When Clarke comes this time, she buries her cries in the crook of Lexa’s neck and then slumps against her, limp and shivering. Lexa tries to steady her breathing, her heart swelling in her chest as she strokes Clarke’s back.

“Okay,” says Clarke a few minutes later, muffled in Lexa’s shoulder. She pulls away and then nudges Lexa until she steps back and watches as Clarke hops to the floor on shaky legs. “Your turn.” Clarke pats her hand on the table where she’d just been sitting. “Lay down.”

Lexa looks at her with wide eyes. Is Clarke implying what Lexa thinks she’s implying? 

Clarke raises her brows at her. “Yeah, you heard me.” She grips Lexa by the waist and steers her around to switch position, pushes until Lexa hops up on the table and settles back. Clarke’s gaze trails down; she licks her lips. “I’m still pretty hungry and I thought your parents promised dessert so here we are.” She grins. “Homemade.”

Lexa groans, and Clarke laughs. “That was terrible.”

“Maybe, but it made you smile.”

“Shut up. You always make me smile.”

“I know,” says Clarke cheekily. She lightly slaps Lexa’s leg. “Now spread ‘em.”

“But,” Lexa begins, twisting round to look at the table behind her, still covered in plates. One of Clarke’s brows wings up. She steps behind Lexa and uses an arm to knock half of the remaining cutlery and dishes off the table to crash onto the floor. “Clarke!” Lexa laughs out in disbelief. Clarke grins at her, waggles her brows expectantly. Lexa grins herself and turns to extend her arm and sweep the remainder of the table clean. She’s already kissing Clarke again even as items are still hitting the floor, red wine seeping into the white carpet. It feels so good. Almost as good as kissing Clarke right now.

And then not nearly as good as kissing Clarke right now because God, what could be better than this? Clarke licks at the inside of her mouth, hands roaming a blistering path up the smooth bare skin of Lexa’s waist, snapping pointedly at the elastic band of her bra until Lexa raises her arms. Clarke pulls the sports bra off and throws it somewhere over her shoulder, lips dropping to Lexa’s chest, teeth grazing the delicate ridge of Lexa’s collarbone before shifting lower, skirting through Lexa’s cleavage. A tongue flicks over her nipple and Lexa’s gasp bites into a moan, head falling back as Clarke’s lips close around her and tug, sucking gently before releasing. A hand splayed against her sternum steers her backward until she’s horizontal, hissing at the sensation of the cool oak against her overheated back. 

“God, you’re hot,” breathes Clarke appreciatively, drinking in the sight before her. Lexa on her back, legs spread. “Fuck.”

Lexa has a witty retort on the tip of her tongue, she does, except the words get stuck in her throat in the face of Clarke Griffin. There are no words to describe how beautiful the sight before Lexa is. Clarke lowering herself down between her legs, sitting on the edge of her chair and scooting up before Lexa like she’s about to feast, gripping Lexa’s thighs and ass and spreading her legs even farther apart. Golden hair in all disarray, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen and kiss-bruised. Lexa props herself up on her elbow, breathless as she meets Clarke’s reverential gaze. 

“You’re so wet,” says Clarke in awe. “Jesus, Lex.” 

And then Lexa is gasping, a whine caught in her throat as Clarke bends her head and glides her tongue over her, feather-light and teasing. She traces gentle figure-eights, never spending long on Lexa’s clit or taking more than shallow dips inside her.

“Clarke.” Lexa can _feel_ Clarke’s smirk pressed against her. She tugs at Clarke’s hair. _“Please.”_

Apparently that’s all Clarke was waiting for. 

In no time at all Lexa’s quiet gasps have elevated into desperate pants and loud, keening moans. The whole house seems filled with the wet sounds of Clarke’s tongue moving through her and the noises tearing out of Lexa’s throat. Lexa has one hand still tangled in Clarke’s hair and the other reaching backward above her head, a white-knuckled grip on the table as her back arches, body burning as her orgasm builds. Clarke laps at her, licks deep inside, thrusts before trailing back up, and it only takes one more glide across Lexa’s pulsing clit for it to happen. She shakes violently atop the table, crying out as the orgasm roars over her. Slumps down with a strangled sob as it leaves her melting down, pushing at Clarke’s head to stop her when she’s overstimulated. Clarke kisses the insides of Lexa’s thigh, smearing wetness across her skin, and looks up with a grin. 

“You’re fucking _gorgeous_ ,” she tells her seriously. Kisses her thigh again. “If I knew you tasted that good I would have made sure we didn’t wait so long to do this.”

“Oh, God,” pants Lexa, arm flung over her eyes as she struggles to catch her breath. “Why did this take us so long?”

“We already established you’re a useless lesbian.”

“You could have asked me out,” Lexa points out. “Why didn’t you?”

Another soft kiss, this time to her knee. “I didn’t know you weren’t picking up on my hints. I thought you just weren’t interested. I didn’t want to be too forward about it. The whole roommate thing, you know.”

“I know.” A thought strikes Lexa then. She does know. What does this mean for them? Is it going to make living together awkward? Was this a one-time thing or could it happen again, could it be more? Lexa’s heart kicks as the idea. She really wants it to be more. But what if Clarke doesn’t?

“This is starting to get a little uncomfortable, like, your parents definitely favor aesthetic over comfort, don’t they?” Clarke winces as she stands up and stretches. “Is that table killing your back?”

“Yeah.” Lexa groans as Clarke helps peel her off it. “Although I’m sure fucking on top of it isn’t exactly the purpose they had in mind for it when they bought it.”

“I doubt fucking is ever on their mind.”

“True,” agrees Lexa. She gathers their clothes up from the floor, gingerly stepping over the spills and messes to cross back to Clarke. She presses a kiss to Clarke’s sweaty temple before taking her hand, tugging her toward the hallway across the room. “Come on, let’s go to my room.”

They reach it on the second floor, hand in hand. Lexa hits the light switch.

“Here we are.”

Clarke scans the room, a curious expression on her face. “This is your bedroom? Like the bedroom you grew up in?”

Lexa looks around at the room. It’s stale and unlived in, but clean and dusted. The small full bed is neatly made. “Yep.”

Clarke looks at her, licks her lips, and places her hand on Lexa’s chest. Lexa drops the pile of clothes and grins because she knows exactly what follows that now and sure enough, Clarke starts walking her backward, gazing intently at her with that familiar single-minded emotion written all over her face. 

“Let’s break it in,” says Clarke, a beat before pushing Lexa onto her bed.

It’s nearly an hour later that they finally collapse, spent and exhausted. They lie there together atop the soaked comforter, limbs tangled and chests heaving, absently stroking one another’s hips, until finally they catch their breath. Eventually Clarke props her head upon her arm and stares down at Lexa.

“Lexa, I’m not going to lie to you. I totally had hopes that this would happen.”

“Clarke Griffin,” says Lexa, putting a hand to her chest and pretending to be scandalized in a manner eerily reminiscent of her mother. “Did you only agree to all of this as an elaborate plan to seduce me?”

“Not exactly? I mean, I had hopes but I didn’t think it’d actually happen! They were more like fantasies.”

Lexa arches a brow. “Fantasies.”

“Yeah. Like…” Clarke draws out the word, gaze skipping down as she trails her hand over Lexa’s skin, across the soft skin of her chest and the swells of her breast, down the firm plane of her stomach and then up again to hover over the hollow of Lexa’s throat where her pulse beats wildly. Clarke looks up at Lexa from beneath her lashes and Lexa’s certain her heart is going to beat its way through her skin. “I might have had a few fantasies about fucking you in your childhood bed. I’m just being honest,” she laughs when Lexa playfully gapes at her. “That’s always a thing, isn’t it? I mean this is your family home. Your parents live here. It’s naughty.” She grins, hand trailing down again. “Something we shouldn’t do. Desecrating your sacred bedroom…”

Lexa leans down, lips brushing the shell of Clarke’s ear. “I might have entertained a vivid daydream on our drive here imagining pulling over to the side of the road and fucking you in my backseat.”

Clarke shivers, eyes slipping shut as she licks her lips. “That could very much be arranged on our way back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” Clarke kisses her, hands tracking a lazy path up the line of Lexa’s back, up into her wild hair, scratching at her scalp. She hums in throaty approval when Lexa sucks at her neck, careful not to leave bruises. 

They both still at the distant sound of keys in the front door reaches them. Lexa’s heart drops, her stomach churns with dread, all color draining from her veins as her blood turns to ice. Lexa abruptly draws back to look at Clarke in horror, and Clarke stares back at her, just as aghast. The dining room. _Shit_.

They scramble out of bed, throwing clothes to one another, dressing in haste. Lexa’s mother is already screaming by the time she and Clarke hurry out of the bedroom and into the dining room where Lexa’s parents stand in the doorway looking as if they’ve just seen a ghost. Lexa and Clarke draw up short, across the room, and for a second all four of them just gawk at one another.

Then Lexa bursts into tears. Her parents stare at her, stunned.

“I’m so sorry,” she weeps, putting her hands onto her face to hide her fake tears. “It was Chaz!”

Lexa’s mother looks scandalized. “Chaz did this?”

“Chaz dumped me!”

Lexa’s father just looks utterly exasperated, running his hand through his hair. “Your boyfriend dumped you so you went on a _rampage_ on my _house_? Lexa…”

Clarke, who has been standing next to Lexa looking both astonished and impressed, steps forward to sympathetically pat Lexa’s arm. “The asshole cheated on her.”

Lexa wails louder at the words. Her mother morphs from a stricken expression to one of pity. “Oh, Lexa.” She sweeps forward to embrace Lexa, holding her gingerly, and Lexa isn’t quite able to see the way Clarke meets her mother’s gaze over her shoulder and they exchange a sympathetic look. She’s a bit astonished that this is the first time she can recall her mother hugging her in years. How on earth is she buying this? Lexa’s mother holds her tightly, breathes, “You’re learning what it means to be a woman now.” Lexa sobs a little more and tightens her hold, swaying to slowly rotate with her mother so she can look over her bony shoulder to shoot Clarke a _wtf?_ expression. Clarke brings her hand up to her face, looking down as though overcome and close to tears on Lexa’s behalf, trying to hide the fact that she was close to laughter.

“Now listen,” says her mother, voice solemn and stern as she leans back to look deeply at Lexa, who doesn’t have to work too hard on appearing miserable in the face of her mother’s attention, “I understand that it hurts and your heart is broken right now. But you can’t take your heartbreak and anger out on other people’s things. The carpet can be replaced but please be more careful next time.”

Lexa’s father stands before the mess, scowling as he points at the table. “What are these stains from, the salad dressing? This was a twenty thousand dollar table!”

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice Clarke and Lexa are both as red as tomatoes. And that their hair is a mess. And that Clarke’s dress is inside out. 

Twenty minutes later, Lexa is driving them home, and they’re each still in a state of stunned disbelief that they actually got away with that. Lexa’s mother had even brought dessert home for them from the country club. Clarke holds it in her lap as they sail down the highway.

“You know,” says Clarke later as she comes to the sad realization, “I just realized. Your parents really didn’t know what the stain on the table was. So they clearly have no idea what the female orgasm looks like.”

Lexa wrinkles her nose. “Not that I want to think about my parents doing it, but...yeah I doubt my mom’s ever had an orgasm.”

Clarke shakes her head. “So tragic. Octavia and Lincoln are the only valid heteros I know.”

“Pretty sure Lincoln is bi.” 

Clarke hums. “Yeah, O might be too, she hits on Raven enough. And I’m pretty sure she’s slept with Niylah before.”

“That must be why they’re valid then.”

“Makes sense.”

They smile at each other. And even in spite of the fact that they just spent a rollercoaster of an evening together that included desecrating Lexa’s parents’ furniture, Lexa can’t help but blush, heart and stomach fluttering, looking away from those very distracting pretty blue eyes. 

“So, I want to be upfront and as clear as possible,” starts Clarke, and Lexa nervous adjusts her grasp on the steering wheel, “Especially considering what a useless lesbian you are. I've thought you were gorgeous since the moment I walked into the dorm and saw you unpacking your closet. You're a wonderful dork and you make me laugh and I'm kinda obsessed with your lips. I don't just share my favorite smoothies with everyone, you know. I like you. A lot. And I really like what happened between us today...a lot. I wouldn’t be opposed to it happening some more.” Lexa steals a glance at her; though Clarke speaks casually and confidently, she’s looking out the window and fidgeting with the Tupperware of cheesecake on her lap. Her cheeks are red. Lexa bites her lip and smiles. 

Lexa ignores the frantic kick of her heart as she suddenly takes a right turn and parks the car on the side of the road. Clarke looks questioningly at her, and Lexa forces her voice to be every bit as casual as Clarke’s as she says, “I think you should be my girlfriend.”

Clarke’s answer is the slow crawl of her smile until it stretches from ear to ear, and a hand slipping up to cup the back of Lexa’s neck, gently urging her down for a long, deep kiss that makes Lexa weak in the knees.

* * *

By [@amanda13parker!](https://amanda13parker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
